


Who You Are, I Am

by clotpolesonly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Full Moon, Future Fic, Good Theo Raeken, Loss of Control, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 02:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: He feels strange. There’s blood in his mouth from teeth longer and sharper than the ones he’s finally gotten used to and blood on his hands from the man at his feet who’s screaming and screaming andscreamingand —A hand catches his wrist. Only his surprise lets Theo actually stop him.





	Who You Are, I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DemonzDust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonzDust/gifts).

> damn it, Demon finally tricked me into writing actual Sceo! (i say as if i'm bothered, haha, it's another rare pair to add to my list so i can't complain XD)

Scott’s vision goes red, deeper and darker than his alpha shift has ever provided before. There’s a rumble in his ears like a roar, and it’s not until his claws meet flesh that he realizes it _ was _ a roar. _ His _roar, shaking the ground and knocking two of Monroe’s men off their feet entirely.

The young omega they have in their grip falls too, a whine in her throat that has nothing to do with the bullets Scott was too slow to stop them firing into her.

He feels strange. There’s blood in his mouth from teeth longer and sharper than the ones he’s finally gotten used to and blood on his hands from the man at his feet who’s screaming and screaming and screaming and— 

A hand catches his wrist. Only his surprise lets Theo actually stop him.

“What are you doing?” Theo demands.

Scott snarls at him with red-stained fangs. The scent of blood in his nose is overpowering in a way it hasn’t been in years, almost intoxicating, and this man deserves to bleed. He deserves to _ die _ for what he’s been doing, all the innocent werewolves he’s hunted down and slaughtered, and Scott can make sure he never hurts anyone ever again.

That’s the only thought in his head now, beating at the inside of his skull like a war drum while the heat of the moon beats down on his back, and his claws _ itch _ to dig into the vulnerable flesh before him, throat and underbelly on display.

But Theo tightens his grip as if he could actually hold Scott back.

“Scott,” he says, his voice far away under the roar of blood lust that’s risen up in Scott’s ears. “He’s already down, you can stop now.”

The hunter is whimpering, pathetic little noises of pain as he makes a feeble effort to crawl away. What little of his skin isn’t smeared red is pallid instead and his eyes are wide with panic, just like the omega’s had been before he’d pulled the trigger on her.

It’s not enough.

Fist clenching, claws slicing into his own palms, Scott growls, “I don’t want to stop.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, but that hardly matters right now, not when there’s a teenage girl with six bullets in her stomach just a few feet away and the power of the full moon overhead. “You wouldn’t.”

Theo’s hold slackens, but he doesn’t let go. “No,” he says. “I wouldn’t.” His thumb slides away from the inside of Scott’s wrist, up and up, until it comes to rest in the hollow of his palm instead, forcing the fist to unclench. “But you’re not me.”

The moon is hot, but Theo’s touch is cool against Scott’s overheated skin. His thumb brushes over the healing puncture wounds, twinges of pain that tug at the haze in Scott’s mind. The growl gets caught in his throat.

Somewhere in the distance, there are gunshots still ringing out, the shuffle and grunts of close combat, the twang of crossbows and thunk of arrows finding their home. But here there’s nothing but the huff of Scott’s own labored breathing and the steady thump of Theo’s heartbeat as he presses in close. Scott could rip him to pieces in a second if he chose to, but Theo threads their fingers together and wraps his other arm around Scott’s chest from behind.

“Scott,” he says, lips brushing the shell of Scott’s ear, “this isn’t you. You never wanted to be like me.”

Claws dig into the back of Theo’s hand as Scott holds it tight enough to grind the delicate bones together, but Theo doesn’t let go or try to pull back. His weight is grounding, the darkness of his shadow a balm to the moon’s insistent rays, and Scott’s heart pounds in his throat now that the growl has died. The blood in his mouth turns his stomach and he spits it out through dull, human teeth.

A click echoes loud around them. The injured hunter has dragged himself just far enough to get a hold of the gun left behind when his comrades ran, aimed as steadily at Scott as his shaking hands will allow.

He doesn’t get to fire it. Before he can pull the trigger, the young omega is there, yanking the weapon from his hand and bringing it down on his head instead. The man slumps to the ground, unconscious but still alive.

The omega lets out a shaky breath and turns to them, her brown eyes wide and worried. Her shirt is soaked with blood still, but she’s mobile and steady on her feet, so she must have gotten the bullets out and begun to heal.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Scott has to laugh. “Are _ you?_”

A smile grows on the omega’s dirty face, so full of relief that it makes Scott’s chest ache. “I’m okay,” she says. “Thank you. _ Thank you._”

There’s a shout nearby. The omega takes off without a second of hesitation, distracting the hunter long enough for Liam to get his gun away from him and take him down. When he’s tied up and spitting curses at them, she turns back, craning her neck to find Scott again. She waves at him.

Theo’s arm tightens around Scott, his stubble scratching at Scott’s temple. “You see?” he says. “_That’s _ who you are.”

Smiling feels almost as foreign as losing control had, the muscles stiff and sore, but he manages. The omega follows Liam off to help Stiles and Chris in their fight and Scott tightens his grip on Theo’s hand in his.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice a roar-rough rasp. He brings his free hand up to rest on Theo’s arm still around him. “But this?”

Scott turns his head, temple bumping against Theo’s chin until Theo pulls back to meet his eye.

“I think maybe _ this _ is who _ you _ are.”

**Author's Note:**

> [(rebloggable on tumblr!)](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/186961077876/sceo-scotts-control-is-slipping)


End file.
